


You, Me, and this Saguaro Cactus

by TheFourDoctors



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Brendon Urie, Bottom Ryan Ross, Brendon and his ADHD, Car Sex, Desert, Doggy Style, I would say no beta we die like men but I read it through and corrected things, M/M, Propositions, Riding, Ryan being Ryan, Ryan is a Dumbass, Top Brendon Urie, Top Ryan Ross, beep beep sex, fun facts about saguaro cacti, poke - Freeform, so I can’t be cool I guess, they both coom haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25839928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFourDoctors/pseuds/TheFourDoctors
Summary: Here, there’s nothing but cacti and the dusk sky around them, the city of Tucson shining brightly in the distance. Brendon, still shaking, takes a few moments to view the scenery.“Jesus, you really are gonna murder me. I mean- you could’ve picked a better spot, at least. It’s pretty boring out here.”
Relationships: Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Kudos: 11





	You, Me, and this Saguaro Cactus

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: nope, shit’s not real, nor do I think the ship was real.

“Ryan. Ryan. Ryan.”

Brendon pokes him. And pokes him. Again, and again. His eye twitches.

“Ryan. Where are we going, Ryan?”

Ryan’s knuckles whiten on the steering wheel, and he quickly side-eyes the other boy.

“Where are you taking me, Ryan?” He pokes him again. “Where are we going?”

“To slaughter you and bury you somewhere in this desert if you don’t shut up. Now quit poking me before I run us off this damn road.”

Brendon quickly sits back in his seat, now thoroughly put-out, and it stays blissfully silent for about two minutes before he unfortunately opens his mouth again.

“If you do murder me and bury me out here, could you leave like, a bottle of beer with my body? I’ve always wondered if you could take material objects into the afterlife if you’re buried with them. Though, I dunno if liquids could-“

Ryan suddenly _swerves_ crazily off the road, startling Brendon greatly, who clings, utterly terrified, to his seat as Ryan comes to an abrupt stop. He parks the car. 

Here, there’s nothing but cacti and the dusk sky around them, the city of Tucson shining brightly in the distance. Brendon, still shaking, takes a few moments to view the scenery.

“ _Jesus_ , you really are gonna murder me. I mean- you could’ve picked a better spot, at least. It’s pretty boring out here.” His voice waivers.

Ryan drops his sunglasses into the cup holder beside him, seatbelt unbuckling, whizzing past him as the car sucks it back up. Brendon is too busy nervously staring out the window and eyeing up a random saguaro cactus about seven feet from the car to notice anything.

“Hey, did you know it takes like, a hundred years for a saguaro cactus to grow an arm? Like, that one there has to be at least two hundred years old, or something. It’s super impressive, honestly. What if humans could do that? Grow multiple arms after a hundred years-“

Ryan’s belt clasp clinks as it comes undone, Brendon’s rambling slowly trailing off as he watches Ryan begin to pull the tight loop apart.

“I can imagine having...like four arms could- could be very...beneficial...”

Ryan slips the belt out of his pant loops, the leather ends snapping together loudly.

“..like...like, you could...”

Brendon swallows, staring with wide, scared eyes. 

“Are you gonna choke me with that?”

Ryan sighs, greatly exasperated.

“I didn’t come out here to kill you dude.”

He tosses the belt into the back seat, already working on the button of his tight, tight jeans. Brendon’s eyes widen again, but this time of a different emotion. He seems to realize what’s going on.

“Did- did you drive me all this way just to proposition me?”

Ryan pauses at the zipper.

“I mean...you do want this, right?”

And now Ryan’s unsure. He doesn’t like being unsure.

But Brendon is still just staring, unmoving and wordless, and now Ryan’s beginning to think he misread everything entirely.

“You just- you seemed like you-...unless I got it wrong...”

Brendon clears his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing in an obvious way that draws his eyes right to it.

“No _no_ I- I do- it’s just, I wasn’t expecting...I wasn’t expecting _here_ , and _now_. You know, in the middle of the desert. I mean, I still I want to, I do want to- I’ve wanted to since uhh...since we- since I joined the band but, you know. I just. Expected a hotel bed?”

Ryan sags with relief, fly coming undone the rest of the way. His reaches in to fish his slightly hard cock out of his boxers, and he can see Brendon’s tongue dart across his lips from the corner of his eye.

“Are you sure you actually want it? That you’re not like, gonna do anything just to appease me?” He asks.

Brendon nods, slowly, and undoes his seatbelt so he can shuffle closer.

“Just, promise not to kill me- that shit was really fucking scary,” Brendon manages, breathless before they’ve even begun. Ryan smiles and shakes his head. “No promises.” He says, leaving Brendon sputtering as he claims his mouth in a long-awaited and passionate kiss.

It’s awkward. This position they have. It’s just awkward, and their shaky, knobbly limbs knock into the console, the steering wheel, each-other. But. It’s good. It’s hot. It’s _perfect_. Brendon is inexperienced, mostly trying to copy what Ryan does, but his enthusiasm quickly makes his cock fill out into full hardness, arousal pooling low in Ryan’s belly.

When Brendon moans into the kiss, pants uncomfortably tight and arm irritated from leaning against the console, Ryan pushes him back enough for them both to breathe, gasping out as he fists his cock tight in his hand.

“Fuck, Ry.” Brendon wheezes. Ryan just wants to keep kissing him, but the position they’re holding is awful, and he also wants to move on to the main event.

“Get in the back.”

Brendon immediately fumbles around in the seat, kneeling and bumping his head against the roof a couple times in a hurry to get into the backseat. He lands on his back gracelessly, head thudding loudly against the door.

“Ow.”

Ryan struggles not to laugh, climbing over the seats with far more elegance than Brendon was able to muster, taking a moment to push his jeans and boxers down his flushed thighs and off. He settles his weight hard onto Brendon’s legs, who’s hands fly down from where he was rubbing the sore spot on his head to clasp against said thighs.

“Hips up,” he begins to unbutton Brendon’s pants. “I’m gonna fuck you.” Ryan says. “And then I’m gonna ride you.”

“Oh god.” Is all Brendon can respond with, hips raising on demand so Ryan can slide the denim and boxers down as far as it can go with him still sitting on top.

“Now turn over.”

Brendon obeys him, although hesitant. Being in control feels exhilarating.

The singer’s got his face smushed against the seat, hot breaths warming the polyester beneath his cheek as he waits in nervous anticipation.

Truth is, Brendon’s never lost his anal virginity. He’s kinda terrified, but he likes to imagine that he’d enjoy it. I mean- he’s seen it in porn. Imagined himself as the bottom, came to the thought many times. It has to be good, right?

Right?

Just as he’s beginning to have second thoughts, something wet and kinda slimy touches his hole, and he tenses up immediately, frightened.

“ _Relax_ , dude. I can’t finger you open if you’re tense like this,” Ryan mutters quickly, impatiently, other hand slipping down to languidly stroke Brendon’s half-hard dick. The pleasure it brings is almost enough to distract him from the pain when the finger eventually breaches him.

Almost.

It still hurts like a bitch, and he grits his teeth, cheek sticking to the seat below. He tries not to wonder about how many asses have sat themselves in that very same seat. Tries not to think. Tries to shut his overactive brain off entirely and just feel.

Ryan breathes, a little unsteady, erection resting against Brendon’s thigh. Their skin sticks together, too. Slippery with sweat.

...

“It’s hot,” Brendon observes.

“Yeah.” Ryan agrees.

“It’s like-...like 81 degrees out, right? Easily th-the worst thing about this desert is the heat.”

Ryan’s not in the mood for conversation, but he guesses this is Brendon’s own way of distracting himself, so he humors him as he adds another finger.

“I’m...m’thinking about going swimming while we’re here. We should- we should all go. You, me, Spence- and...and Jon. I’m sure the road crew won’t miss us.”

“Could use the break.” Ryan adds. The fingers spread apart, curl down. Searching. Brendon’s voice cracks and falters, a soft moan vibrating in his throat at the sensation.

“Then we could- we could hit the- oh  _**god** _ ,” 

His then voice goes all deep and breathless as Ryan twists his fingers, hitting seemingly all the right spots, like he’s playing an instrument. A horny, jittery, human instrument.

Brendon absolutely does not try to visualize that, instead focusing on the feel of those rough fingers inside him, drawing these noises he never knew he could make out of him, and...they might be useful for singing, actually.

“Stop thinking,” Ryan grounds out, cock wet and sliding where he’d leaked pre all over Brendon’s flushed, fair skin. “I can practically hear it. In fact, stop talking too.”

“S-sorry, it’s super fucking difficult to-“ 

Ryan presses down harshly. A boatload of sensations suddenly hit Brendon like a fucking semi truck. Gets under his skin, behind his eyes, in his brain, in his cock. He screams out approximately six different curses and nearly creams himself right then and there.

“Shut up and- and enjoy it, dumbass.”

Brendon obeys, doesn’t speak for the next couple minutes, breathing heavily into the seat, face feeling numb from where it’s been pressed against it for so long. He feels when Ryan removes his fingers and replaces it with the blunt head of his cock, breaking through the hazy cloud around him with blissful pain.

Ryan begins to press in, and it feels...strange. Overwhelming. Good. Awful. Stop stop stop- fuck oh god no wait don’t stop don’t stop keep going-

“Fuck- I forgot a condom,” the boy gasps out through the pleasure. He’s about to pull out when Brendon groans, “god, I don’t fucking _care_ ,” and slams his hips back.

They both choke and freeze, basking in the indescribable sensation. It’s hot. It’s so hot. It burns. He’s so full.

“Hurts,” Brendon grits out. His throat feels dry, mouth full of cotton.

Ryan doesn’t say anything as he leans down to press his weight onto Brendon’s back. His thumb gliding across Brendon’s slit, pre wetting his finger. He buries his face into the other’s hair, breathes deep, presses gentle kisses down the back of his neck. Brendon whimpers softly. 

Ryan pulls out after a minute, shaky, biting down hard when his hips crash forward again. It’s sudden, harsh, and it knocks what little air Brendon still had out of his lungs. Pain bursts from his neck, his ass, but it feels so good, so good.

“Oh god,” he murmurs. “Oh god oh god oh god _ohmy_ -“

Their hips meet again, this time softer, and Ryan produces a rhythm. Slow. Gentle. Contradicting the first thrust he took. He drags his cock inside Brendon, pulling these sweet, sweet sounds deep from his throat, his lungs, his heart. He’s expanding, he’s filling the air all around him. He feels as big as the moon. Suspended in space.

Ryan exhales, trembling hands sliding up, up Brendon’s shirt, to his chest. He pulls Brendon to his hands and knees, the poor singer’s arms quivering like a leaf, struggling to hold himself up. This provides a much better angle and he bites his lip, nearly cums too early when Brendon clenches so fucking _tightly_ around him.

“Fuck, dude. Stop that.” “Can’t hhh- can’t help it-“ he gasps.

He grips tight the shoulders now beneath his hands, pressing close to him, chest against back even through their sweat-dampened shirts. He pulls, once more, with far more might. The grip helps him fuck harder,  _faster_ , into Brendon’s plaint, putty-like body, hips angled down, gyrating, pushing-

The boy goes rigid, his staccato moans all breathless and high from ecstasy, spilling for seemingly ages all over the seat. It takes a whole minute or two for Brendon to come back to himself from the heavens he’d just been sent to.

“You ruined the seat,” Ryan groans and pulls out, still achingly hard and needing to cum. His ass feels particularly empty from preparations earlier that evening, and he wants badly to sink down onto Brendon’s cock. Ride him hard and unforgiving. “This is a rental.”

“You- it’s,“ the singer wheezes, “it’s your fault, Ross. You- you fucked me so good.”

Brendon tears his own Black Sabbath shirt off, wipes away the cum stained onto the seat, weekly pushing it away and falling onto his back once more to just lay there and bask in the afterglow. Ryan fumbles with the pants still taught against Brendon’s thighs, pulling them off, tossing them to land next to the shirt on the car floor.

“I’m naked.” Brendon observes.  


Yes, you are.” Ryan agrees.

“Feels weird. I wasn’t naked before. You’re not naked. You should get naked and cuddle with me.”

Ryan’s shirt soon joins the pile of clothes. He lays against Brendon’s chest, listens to the frantic heartbeat as it slowly begins to calm down.

“M’still hard.” Ryan says. Brendon hums. “I know.”

Brendon brings his fingers up to his lips, licking, wetting the skin entirely with spit. He sucks obscenely, noisily, Ryan’s stomach lurching with arousal at the sudden thought of what that mouth feels wrapped around a cock. His cock specifically.

The fingers slide down Ryan’s back, teasing between his crack, pressing against his loose hole. It takes little effort to push them in, which is perfect with how lazy they’re both feeling. It’s rough and _good_. Ryan breathes out a moan and his eyes slip shut, body lax and waiting.

“Loose,” the word vibrates against Ryan’s cheek. His fingers curl. This feeling, a burning sensation low in Ryan’s belly, begins to flare up.

“Bet you’re gonna take my cock so good.” Brendon’s shaky, needy voice betrays his confidence. “Yeah...” Ryan sighs, rubs his hand against Brendon’s soft cock, feels it twitch in a great effort to get up again. He knows it won’t take long.

And it doesn’t. With some coaxing, it’s hard again in record time, and Ryan stupidly feels like going ‘Good job, Brendon’s dick. Bravo. Here’s a gold star,’ but he doesn’t, because that’s dumb and stupid. Instead, he sits up and reaches for the lube he’d dropped earlier, spurts a generous amount into his hand, and lathers up Brendon’s erection.

“Jesus, that’s a lot,” Brendon breathes out this dark, sexy little chuckle. One that makes Ryan’s want increase tenfold. “You only prepped me with spit, which, judging by this monster, isn’t going to cut it.”

He strokes again for emphasis, cutting into Brendon’s amusement, whom buzzes adorably from the compliment and quiets considerably. Watches as Ryan then straddles his hips. The lyricist reaches back to grasp that dick, lines it up with his hole and teases himself. Just because.

It stays silent -save for their rugged breathing- until,

“Giddy up and ride me, cowboy. **Neigh**.”

The amusement bubbles from Ryan’s core, and he gasps out, “shut the fuck up oh my god,” through his laugher, sinking down onto Brendon’s cock as they’re both gasping and giggling through the pleasure.

Ryan’s laughter cuts off with a sharp moan when Brendon’s hips jerk up instinctively, hands placing themselves absolute on Brendon’s chest, pushing him back down against the sweat-slicked seat, reminding him who is ultimately in control. Brendon goes with it, seemingly uncaring of who takes the lead, just wanting to be ridden all the way to his second orgasm.

Ryan stills, and then bucks his hips experimentally, thoroughly enjoying the low groan he receives in response. It makes him want to do it again, so he does it. Again. And again. And keeps doing it until he’s bouncing enthusiastically in Brendon’s lap, the car beginning to shake once more. It’s dark now, he can barely see Brendon’s eyes shining up at him. 

He reaches up and switches on the car light, basking them in a low, warm glow. It’s hot. The southern Arizona weather suffocates them in this hotbox of sweat, sex, and low, bubbly giggles. Some coyotes howl in the far distance.

Ryan’s legs feel particularly weak when he, exhausted, drops all his weight onto Brendon’s lap, feeling the unyielding hardness stab that sweet spot inside him. He absolutely does not whimper and moan and sob out Brendon’s name. Absolutely not. Ryan does not whimper and moan and sob.

Except, he does, because he allows Brendon to fuck up into him, too tired to do it himself, head tilted back and hands slipping all over the singer’s sweaty chest, fingers toying with pert nipples. Ryan gasps and moans, breathing frantic, and that incredible feeling deep inside him is building, growing, _expanding_.

Brendon’s eyes are so, so dark. So gorgeous. So full of lust and another unreadable emotion. His plump, swollen lips are glinting in the low lighting, jaw hung open, thick brows furrowed, eyes slipping shut softly at the pleasure of it all.

He grasps tightly Ryan’s hips, feet planting firmly on the seat below, hips  _slamming_ up into him. Hard. Unforgiving.  _**Amazing**_.

Ryan cums, the force of his climax positively overwhelming. He nearly blacks out, barely registers his own loud, abrasive moan, Brendon tugging him close as he continues to fuck into him, body hypersensitive and eyes watery. 

Brendon can’t help but think he looks beautiful like this. Like, Ryan’s this ethereal creature, dodging common folk and choosing when to grace people with his presence. Reclusive, living in the woods.

And- okay, yeah. That thought is kinda stupid, because they live primarily on a tour bus, and Ryan is far from ethereal a lot of the time -more like a cryptid- but it doesn’t matter, because he’s cumming again and he’s moaning and sighing and god _damn_ this shit feels heavenly-

Brendon blinks his eyes open about a minute later, sees Ryan curled against his chest, breathing hot and even against him. The yellowy glow of the car light compliments the moonlight outside, casting a breathtaking array of shadows and colors onto Ryan’s pale skin.

Brendon leaves a kiss on the boy’s head, murmurs softly what he thinks is an unheard confession of adoration and love, but then a smile grows wide on Ryan’s face, one that makes his poor heart flutter and skip around in his chest.

_‘Yeah,’_ he thinks. _‘Fucking beautiful.’_

**Author's Note:**

> sex !!


End file.
